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I know that I’ve become stronger over the last few months and I’m not the same terrified woman I was when I ran. But I still see her lurking just under the surface, another annoying byproduct of the dreams.
“That’s not who I am anymore," Iwhisper to myself. “You got away and are safe.” I nod my head whilestaringinto my own eyes. “You have a great job that you love with people who respect you. You have friends and a safe place to live. You are stronger than you know.”
I take a deep, calming breath and slowly release it, along with the anxiety and feelings of worthlessness bottled up inside.
I walk out of the bathroom and am about to get into bed when I hear a noise. My heart jumps into my throat as I tip-toe to the door and listen closely. My heart goes back to normal when I recognize the sounds of tools being used.
I open the door and quietly walk down the hallway towards the kitchen. I can see a light under the door leading to the garage. Xander must be in there working on something. Which makes sense being a mechanic, he would obviously have tools for his own garage.
I debate over whether or not I should disturb him, but my curiosity gets the best of me, and I pull open the door.
I wasn’t prepared for the sight that greets me. Xander is working on his bike, shirtless, every muscle on display flexing as he turns the wrench. I shouldn’t have come in here. Curiosity killed the cat, after all, and this sight is about to kill my panties that are about to disintegrate.
I go to back out but my foot knocks into a damn empty can of pineapple juice and sends it skittering across the floor. Xander’s head shoots up at the sound and stares at me as I awkwardly stand frozen having been caught lurking.
So, naturally, my first words to him are incredibly witty. “What is with you and pineapple juice?” An asteroid could hit the planet right now and I would welcome it.
He blinks at me a few times before his confusion seems to clear and he gives me a smirk. “I’m not much into soda, but I like sweet things.” I’m absolutely not imagining the way his eyes travel up and down my body as he says that. A body, I belatedly realize, is only in short shorts and a tank top, no bra. “Plus,” his smirk turns feral, “I like the way it makes my tongue tingle.”
Is it possible for you to orgasm from words alone? Or for my own tongue to start tingling?
“Oh," Ireply breathily, my voice sounding nothing like it should. Damn him, his dancing eyes means he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
Thankfully, he doesn’t continue his sexy comments. “Whatchadoin’ up so late, Darlin’?" heasks as he sets his wrench down and picks up a relatively clean looking rag to wipe his hands.
I give him a sheepish shrug. “I heard a noise after waking up from a bad dream.” I have no idea why I just told him that. I never mention my dreams to anyone. Those are hidden away in a deep, dark box in my mind, never to see the light of day.
He looks at me for a moment before giving me his annoying smirk. I’ve been around him enough to realize that he has a few different ones. The sexy ones, the friendly ones and the one that means he’s about to piss me off. “Freddy Kreuger chasin’ you in your sleep?”
I’m instantly relieved that he isn’t asking about my dream and annoyed because he looks so proud of himself for his dumb joke. I roll my eyes and take a few steps into the garage. “It’s not the eighties anymore. If any psycho was chasing me in my dreams, it would be Jigsaw.” Or my ex, but I leave that part out.
He gives me a grumpy look that really shouldn’t look so sexy. “What is it with women and horror movies?" hemoans while shaking his head.
I give a little shrug. “They’re fun. Especially when you have someone to cuddle up to.” What the hell am I saying? That was definitely flirting and I’m not supposed to be doing that. I need to get myself together.
His very soft and kissable lips purse in thought, “Hmm, I might need to rethink those things then.”
Eeek, time tobackpedalbitch and fast! “What are you working on?” I want to smack myself.He’s obviously working on his freaking bike. Why does this man make me go stupid? I am actually an incredibly bright woman, ya know, whenever he’s not around.
His lips twitch, most likely amused at my less than smooth transition. “Just tunin’ up my baby girl a bit.” He runs his hand along the side lovingly.
I suddenly have an irrationaljealousytowards the bike for getting his hands on it. Yeah, that’s totally normal, being jealous of inanimate objects. “Oh, um, well, I won’t bother you. I’ll just go back to my room.”
I go to turn around, but his words stop me. “Nah, pull up a stool and hang around. I don’t mind the company.”
I should make an excuse about being tired and scurry back to my room. But I’m so damn weak where this man is concerned, that before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m already lowering myself to a rolling stool. Maybe he puts some weird drug in his wonderful smelling cologne, and it makes women do what he wants? I mean, sure, it’s pretty out there, but possible, maybe.
Thankfully, I at least still have the presence of mind to make sure that my legs are tightly crossed. “So, why are you up so late?” I also cross my arms against my chest, since the air in here is a bit chilly and my nipples seem to be reacting to that. Or him. I’m not sure, but best to keep them hidden away. “Upset because a little kid beat your high score on a game?” I smile, mentally thanking Kealy for explaining the whole thing to me.
He goes red and narrows his eyes at me. “It’s not a fuckin’ kid’s game," hegrowls without any real venom, more of just annoyance at his own dumb mistake. “And it was in the adult section," hemutters petulantly.
I can’t help the giggle that bursts free. “Then why do you still play it?”
“I spent money on it. I’m not just gonna throw it out," helies horribly.
I give him a disbelieving look. “Uh-huh, says the guy who has every high-end kitchen appliance available without being able to use them.” I raise my eyebrow. “Very believable," Iscoff.
He rolls the stool he’s sitting on closer to me, slowly, deliberately. He stops when he’s barely an inch away from me. “Ya, know, most house guests are a lot nicer to their gracious hosts.” His eyes are as dark as midnight right now, making my heart rate speed up. “It’s not nice to make fun of your host‘s hobbies.” His voice is low and gravelly, raking over each and every one of my nerve endings.
